Five Kinks David Rossi Didn't Know He Had Until He Met Emily Prentiss
by Abydosorphan
Summary: Five snippets. I think the title explains it for the most part.
1.
Fishnets

David Rossi has seen plenty of women wearing fishnets in his time. He's never really understood the appeal. So he's completely taken back by his reaction to seeing Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss walking out of the police locker room in a slinky black dress complete with black heels and wearing black fishnets.

His assignment is to follow her through the club and watch the men who will, undoubtedly, be watching her. Rossi suspects there will be a lot. But he's not sure how he can fulfill his assignment when he can't take his eyes off of her. He starts at her head and works his way down. He's always admired her legs, but the dark lines of the fishnets contrast with the pale hues of her skin in a way that has him completely captivated. He wonders if he can convince her to put them on again later for some extracurricular activities, but then his thoughts are derailed as he tries to figure out if they're thigh-highs or full-length. And where is her gun?

The idea that she's wearing a thigh-holster under the slinky dress with the fishnets stops his thought processes all together. David Rossi knows now that he should have stayed retired. He's too damned old for this shit and Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss will definitely be the death of him.

Of course, he couldn't die happier.

* * *

2.  
Evening

Between working for the FBI and traveling on book tours, David Rossi is used to unusual, unpredictable and unregulated hours. He's not used to trying to keep a steady schedule and has therefore never classified himself as a 'morning' or a 'night' person. Since he started a relationship with Emily Prentiss; however, he would have to say his favorite part of the day – when they're not working a case – is the evening.

The evening is when she starts to unwind. She relaxes and slips off her shoes, moving around her brownstone or his house with an ease that she doesn't have when she's moving between the desks of the bullpen.

She'll curl up on the couch with a throw cover and a glass of wine, put on some music and pick up a book. She'll lean into him and sit there completely content in the silence.

Some evenings they'll cook, the two of them moving around each other's kitchens as if they've always been there. The synchronicity between them is something that should have taken years to develop: instead it only took weeks.

He enjoys wrapping his arms around her and taking her to bed, but one of his real kinks about their relationship has become the evening when he can just be there and _exist_ in her presence.

* * *

3.  
Candy

He's never had much of a sweet tooth, and if he was ever going to have a sweet tooth his second wife quickly turned him off of every candy he could possibly imagine. The woman was always popping something in her mouth – which probably explained why she gained fifty pounds over the course of their marriage. So he's surprised by the way he becomes completely enamored with the slightly sweet, semi-tangy taste of Emily's kiss.

When she pulls back she rubs her lips together in a rather satisfied smirk. "Enjoy that, did you?"

He nods slowly as he tries to identify the hint of flavor that lingers behind.

She leans forward, slowly kissing him once more. "Care for a Jolly Rancher, 'Mr. I Don't Like Candy'?"

The soft bristle of his facial hair runs along the line of her throat and he hears her intake of breath. "Prentiss, if I say yes, and you tell me to go fuck a farmer, there will be hell to pay."

She giggles as he concentrates on the sensitive area below her ear, and then the candy becomes a moot point. For the moment. But he will definitely be taking her up on her offer later.

And if he can get her in coveralls and a straw hat, he might take her up on both.

* * *

4.  
Blue

When you get used to wearing dark colors, and being surrounded by people wearing dark colors, you find that you appreciate color a little more. Rossi never really found that he liked one color over another in any dramatic difference. On Emily Prentiss, things were different. He wasn't sure when he'd noticed it, or when it had started, but he found that he _really_ enjoyed it when Emily wore blue.

It didn't make a difference what it was. It could be the pale blue shirt under her jacket. It could be a blue hoody for hiking in the woods trying to locate a missing person – or the remains thereof. It could be her bra and panties – which, if he was really honest with himself, was probably his favorite. But somehow the color blue, in any way, shape, or form, on Emily Prentiss was a sure sign that she wasn't about to be going home alone that evening.

* * *

5.  
Boss

Rossi closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He was glad that this was temporary, just until Aaron got back. He'd been glad to give up the position as The Man and retire, even more pleased with coming back to the team, with having that dynamic, from a subordinate position. This wasn't for him anymore. He didn't have the patience for the paperwork or the bureaucratic BS that the Chief had to deal with anymore.

The sound of his office door opening urged him to move his hands from his face. Emily Prentiss strode across his office carrying a bottle of his best bourbon – probably lifted from his liquor cabinet at home – and two glasses. The door quietly closed behind her as she set the glasses down on the clear spot on his desk, next to the blotter.

"Everyone else has called it a night and headed home. Judging from the pile you have here I figured I wouldn't be able to convince you to leave without some liquid assistance, though."

Rossi shrugged, pushing himself away from his desk and leaning back into his chair. "This job sucks. There was a reason I never wanted to come back to it."

Prentiss trailed a finger along the edge of his desk as she sat precariously on the edge. "I dunno, I'm sure being the boss has _some_ perks."

He watched as she poured two good fingers full of the amber liquid into each glass; handing him one as she leaned forward in a slow, calculated move. It wasn't till his fingers were wrapped around the glass, while hers refused to let go, that he noticed the top few buttons of her blouse were undone. Studying her closer, while her foot rested gently against the armrest on his chair, he saw the rim of her thigh-highs and the bare skin beyond.

"You know, I've always had a bit of a thing for your desk." Her voice ghosted against the rim of his ear, and if it weren't for the absolute mess that he knew he was about to make of the pile of files, he would think he had died and gone to heaven.

Some days, it was good to be the boss.


End file.
